Crash Like Thunder [ a narrative v 2]

[ find the first installation here: x ]


SETTING: Ymirsson household, Iceland
TIME: Ryuu's youth, pre-teens
CHARACTERS: Ryuu, Yukitsu; a mother, Tyr; a father
SUMMARY: Bloodlines cross at the cost of a mother's stability, a father's instability, and a young girl's trust.

“Like this, Ryuu. Watch closely.” The gentle, lithe fingers belonging to the young and patient mother held the fine calligraphy brush as if it were an extension of her arm. Her movements fluid and flawless as ever, seemingly useless, lone lines were transformed into meaningful characters. Pleased that she had her usually distracted daughter’s full attention, Yukitsu Ryuuzaki brought her family’s name to fruition, stroke by patient stroke, a hypnotic act. “This is our family name, little Ryuu. When arranged this way, do you know what its meaning is?”

The young girl of two vastly different worlds scrunched her dynamic features as if to hone in on the kanji before pointing to one of the symbols. “Obviously, that’s ‘Ryuu.’ It means ‘dragon.’ It’s what you call me when faðir isn't around. He says it’s disrespectful to my Viking lineage.” Before her mother could reply, she continued, pointing to the other character. “But this one is strange. I know it has to be ‘Zaki,’ but that’s not Japanese. It’s Arabic.”

Impressed, Yukitsu wrapped her kimono-clad arms around her most precious child. “You are not wrong,” she began before circling a certain set of lines. “Read it from left to right, starting with what I circled.” Instinctively and with warm pride, the porcelain-skinned ‘beauty of the Orient’ could already feel the girl who would carry on her family name fill with excitement.

“Red!” Ryuu’s bright blue eyes lit up as if she had unlocked some marvelous secret. “Red, as in blood. Family blood ties! It can also be read as ‘blood relative.’ And put together…” a pause, gathered breath. “‘Ryuuzaki,’ meaning ‘Red Dragon’ or ‘Blood Dragon’! That’s so cool!”

Yukitsu pulled Ryuu into a tighter embrace, tilting her neck to plant a soft kiss on the girl’s cheek, eliciting an exaggerated squeal and half-hearted protests. The glow and pride began to dull with Ryuu’s next words.

“Western dragons can be killed by mere mortals. Japanese dragons are celestial, so they can’t be touched. That’s why faðir chose you, isn’t it? He wanted strong offspring with strong blood. As a Ryuuzaki and Ymirsson, I’ll be stronger than my brothers! Maybe even him, someday! Wouldn’t that be amazing? I could crush entire countries and they wouldn’t know… unless, off course, I wanted them to!”

The tortured mother couldn’t handle this skewed view, shooting up from her seated position and spitefully pushing her only blood relative away. Ryuu landed on her backside, elbows slamming against the floor and tipping the inkwell over, smudging the very name that made her most proud.

“If you follow your father, you’ll die young and for nothing! What point is it to try to give you the tools to obtain peace and oneness with the world if you sing praises to a man of war?!” Yukitsu shrieked, tears marring her otherwise perfect face. “I just do not want you to think that you are a slave to your abilities, let alone a slave to him! I know what it is like, Ryuu! I will not let you fall prey to him as I did!”

Surreal, frosted, piercing eyes moved from the ground, up her mother’s simple yet elegant silk kimono, and finally shooting a paralyzing glare of which Yukitsu could not escape. Her words were meant to open her daughter’s heart, yet they proved to freeze its already cold disposition.

The sudden outburst came as no surprise to Ryuu. She was used to this, this… unbridled clash of suppressed emotions that had earned her mother the nickname of ‘Yuki-Onna,’ or ‘Snow Woman,’ referring to a terrifying and unforgiving Japanese demon. With quiet resolve and an unwavering stare, Ryuu stood to face her mother. Truly, she felt no real animosity toward the purchased bride; the extreme shift in personality that often manifested at any positive mention of her cruel and evil husband. By the time Yukitsu had realized what she had done, it was too late for recompense.

“I am proud to be a Ryuuzaki, móðir,” Ryuu began, using the Icelandic word as salt in the wounds, “and I’ve accepted my lineage as an Ymirsson. That part of me marks me as a descendant of Ymir, the Norse god of creation! He was created at the meeting point of a frozen river and molten lake! Fire and ice flow through my blood. Even without you, I am destined for glory, gore, and destruction.” Advancing, the unjustly doomed youth further ruined her loving mother’s calligraphy, the characters now completely obscured. “Faðir christened me ‘Iðunn’ as a prayer to the gods that I may have a prolonged life. And yet… I understand it’s just a throwaway gesture. Selfish. He teaches me to survive, to kill. You turn away in those moments, then expect me to adopt your pacifist way. I don’t want your blood. I don’t want his blood! You’re both cursed, and you’ve passed it onto me. Your sicknesses plagues me, whereas Fenrir and Jörgumandr inherited none of it!”

As Iðunn Ryuuzaki-Ymirsson, not even in her teens, rained truth upon her mother like a seasoned orator, the woman retreated to the floor, unable to process her precious, sacred daughter’s damning and excruciatingly true declaration. The woman had no idea how far her daughter had already walked within the heinous halls of Helheim. The earth beneath her seemed to crack under the weight of the truth. “A… Akai Ito,” she managed, grasping for something, anything to rein little Ryuu in. “Whatever you do, wherever you go, there will always be Akai Ito. You are bound to me by the red string of fate. You are my daughter.”

It was Ryuu’s turn to be surprised. Her mother had pulled at her heartstrings by reminding her of the bond they shared, one that could never be destroyed, whether they liked it or not. The phrase harkened back to memories when Yukitsu would tie a red string around her tiny, rambunctious little girl’s finger. Back then, Ryuu would wear it until the string fell apart, after which her mother explained that Akai Ito had fully integrated itself into her soul and that she didn’t need an actual string anymore.

“You’re right,” Ryuu stated quietly, but clearly enough for her mother to hear. “Akai Ito is in my soul…”

A sigh of relief, an exhausted smile played over Yukitsu’s tired features. ’There’s still some tradition in her, after all.’

“…but when you married my father, you sold your soul to the devil. Without a soul, even Akai Ito doesn’t apply to you.”

Two sentences and Yukitsu’s blossoming peace was set aflame, her fragile mind became a devastating inferno, and her bruised heart burned as if thrown into Muspelheim itself. It was true. Tyr Ymirsson––Ragnarök––had demanded it from her. And she had given it to him. Unable to handle the deluge of emotions, the agonised mother fainted.

She didn’t know how long she had been on the floor, but when the mother had regained her grasp on reality, she was met with a tall pair of leather steel-toed boots. Terror surged through her body as she was gently lifted to her feet and engulfed in a tender yet calming embrace from the devil himself. These moments were the strangest, most soothing, most terrifying. Confusion, clarity, security, sadism, passion, and perversion blended perfectly with one another, creating an ultimately debilitatingly wonderful feeling.

“Our daughter has run away again,” Tyr Ymirsson whispered, kissing his wife on the cheek before leaning back she that they were face to face. “I am told she was last seen with you. So…” the man forced himself to exhale slowly before continuing, his face now devoid of emotion. “Tell me, ástin mín… what did you do with your day?”